


Femslash Feburary 2020 Collection

by TalesOfOnyxBats



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Once Upon a Time (TV), Voltron: Legendary Defender, Winx Club
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Blindness, Blood and Injury, Bodyguard, Cinderella Elements, Cozy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explosions, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff, Haircuts, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Jazz - Freeform, Jazz Singer AU, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Office, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Recovery, Redemption, Romance, Sacrifice, Self-Esteem Issues, Stitches, Swords, Thunderstorms, cinderella retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfOnyxBats/pseuds/TalesOfOnyxBats
Summary: A handful of femslash February one shots from 2020's challenge ranging in length and fandom.
Relationships: Acxa/Allura (Voltron), Azula & Ty Lee (Avatar), Azula/Katara (Avatar), Azula/Mai (Avatar), Azula/Yue (Avatar), Bloom/Icy (Winx Club), Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan, Korra/Kuvira (Avatar), Kuvira/Asami Sato
Comments: 22
Kudos: 71
Collections: Femslash February





	1. Lightning Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Between IRL stuff and other fics I almost forgot about Femslash February this year. But better late than never. I probably won't be doing all of the prompts this time around as I am busier and already missed sixteen days. 
> 
> Fandom: Avatar  
> Pair: TyZula  
> Prompt: Fire  
> Summary: Azula accidentally cuts off her own bending. TyLee is becomes her source of comfort.

Azula flexes her fingers but no flame comes. It leaves a sickly tingle in her belly. A cold hollowness where dread has taken root and bloomed in the place where warmth once radiated. It has been several months since her own lighting rebounded and fried her chi points and she still can’t bend a single spark. 

She is well aware that she has made her own misery. 

She was a fool to try to bend lightning with her mind in such a state of disarray. A fool to take Zuko’s bait. 

A fool plain and simple. 

She looks over the raw and raised veins that fork up and down her abdomen and back, a hideous physical reminder of her failure and idiocy. She holds her stare upon the scars and considers that, perhaps, it is for the best that she can no longer bend.

She has only ever caused anguish with her fire. 

This time it happens to be of the self-inflicted variety.

At the sound of her bedroom door opening, she looks up. “Here you go.” TyLee sits a cup of steaming tea on her nightstand and takes a seat at the foot of her bed. Azula’s head dips, she still can’t fathom why the acrobat is still talking to her after her demand to have her locked up and left to rot. It somehow hurts to have the girl around, it is a reminder of who she is.

Of what she is.

Yet, Tylee smiles softly at her and gives her a soft hug accompanied by her daily vow that she will massage the blockage from her chi as soon as the scars heal in full. Azula has her doubts, and a lot of them. She’d rather bask in the coldness of in her core than allow the warmth of false hope to seep in. 

“I think that they’re kind of pretty.” TyLee remarks. It takes her a moment to realize that the girl is talking about her scars. 

Azula scoffs, “they’re symbols of shame.” 

TyiLee gives a sympathetic frown. Azula bunches herself up, feeling terribly small and weak. “I need my fire, TyLee.”

“You’ll get it back, I know you will.” 

Azula wipes at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. 

“And even if you don’t, you still have a different kind of fire.:

Azula doesn’t believe it for a moment. “I’ve rendered myself useless…” she adamantly insists. In one day she has lost both of the things that made her powerful; her mind and her flame. 

“That’s not true!{‘ The volume of her exclamation causes Azula to jolt. She apologizes with a wince before continuing. “You have lots of other skills.” but at the moment, Azula feels anything but skillful. She, in fact, can’t name one good thing about herself. Not a thing that she likes.

“I  _ had  _ a lot of skills. What do I have now?”

TyLee gnaws on her cheek. “You have me.”

Azula’s breath catches and her eyes go momentarily wide, because, until then, she was certain that she had no one and nothing. She shifts uncomfortably at the prospect of a real chance at companionship. 

“I know that I left you before…” and Azula is plenty aware that she had earned the abandonment. She thinks that TyLee deserves better than to fuss with her. “But I’m going to be here now.”

Azula somewhat unsuccessfully fights back a pathetic little sob. If she weren’t so desperate for comfort and reassurance and for a reason to keep fighting, she might have rejected the girl. 

Prolonged a grudge. 

Instead, she squeezes TyLee’s hand. The girl smiles, “you’re going to be alright. You always are. And when you do get better you’ll have more than you started with...and a cool story!”

Azula swallows as TyLee gently traces the lines of her lightning tree scar. “Fire or no fire, you’re still you.’ She pauses. “And I like you.”

Azula wants to weep again but this time it isn’t out of sorrow--not completely anyhow. She cures herself for being so fragile and emotional. “Thank you, TyLee.” She manages and squeezes her hand tighter. “I like you too.” But she thinks that it is much more than that. 

Until she finds her own again, TyLee will be her fire;the warmth to keep her going. 

And maybe that is better than her own fire. 


	2. Her Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Shield  
> Fandom: Winx Club  
> Pair: Icy/Bloom
> 
> Summary: As punishment for trying to take over the magical universe, Icy is tasked to protect Bloom from other villains.

She wonders at what point her resentful job became a personal quest, something that she wanted to do. She tries to tell herself that the compulsion comes from a sense of duty. Icy cringes as a series of sharp pricks burst all over her body. “You have got to stop making enemies of powerful people.”

“It’s a hobby.” Bloom quips. “I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t.” 

Icy scoffs and turns back to her foe. Seldom does she get to face another ice witch, she is thankful for that. In some way, it is like fighting herself. And maybe, in some way, she is. 

And this time it would seem that she is losing the fight. 

The woman, Blizzard? Blissa?--Icy can never remember her name--tosses another blast of frigid air at Bloom. She counters it with a wave of heat. 

In doing so, she opens herself to the real attack. 

It is too late to counter or block the strike. With a sigh, Icy puts herself in its path and she resents herself for having done so.What kind of witch puts her own needs aside for someone else. Someone that she is sworn to hate. The ice spike meets her torso, driving through her in such a way that her feet no longer touch the ground and she cries out. Cries out in physical anguish and for the woman she has lost. 

Just what has become of her? 

She is supposed to loath the fairy; she has already made an oath of vengeance for when she is through playing nice. 

But she doesn’t think that it is an act anymore. 

Somewhere down the line, she has grown particularly fond of the loathsome fairy. 

Fond enough to find herself impaled in the woman’s place. 

_ A sense of dut _ y, she tells herself.  _ Nothing more. _

Yet sacrifice isn’t in her job description. 

They told her to guard and protect Bloom to the best of her abilities. That after a year of service, she would be free. There is nothing to detail that she has to make a shield of herself. 

She shouldn’t be in this position. She shouldn’t…

“Icy!” Bloom calls. 

Having success enough for one day, Blizzard retreats. Icy hadn’t noticed her departure. 

She feels a warm hand on her cheek. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

Icy shakes her head. “I did.” She confesses bitterly and hating herself more for it. A thin trail of blood works its way out of her mouth. Wincing the entire time, she shatters the base of the ice spike and drops as gracefully as she can manage. 

There is no grace at all. 

She stumbles and Bloom has the decency to catch her before her body can meet the ground. 

She coughs, with it, blood streaks the back of her hand. Never has she felt this magnitude of pain. “You’re lucky that I was never this heartless.” She remarks, gesturing to the spike protruding from her belly. 

“Because you’re not evil.” 

Icy scoffs for a second time. She had just saved the fairy and now she is making rude remarks. “Yes. I am.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Bloom replies, causing Icy’s frown to deepen before it fades into a grimace. 

Icy draws a forced breath. “For fuck’s sake, let me die with  _ some  _ dignity.” 

“I’m not going to let you die.” Bloom helps lower Icy into a sitting position. “Here, hold still.” 

Icy sucks in a deep breath as Bloom begins tugging on the spike. 

She hisses in pain. “No, let me do it!” She takes another breath and channels her magic into shattering the ice. A dizzying gush of blood follows the ice’s crackling shatter. Icy’s second cry is as sharp as the spike she’d just splintered. It takes everything she has to clear her head enough to freeze her own blood and only enough to deter its flow. “Bloom…” her voice comes out sickeningly weak. “I’m going to do something risky, but it’s my best chance.” She pauses. “I’m going to…” she groans inwardly. “I’m going to need your help.” 

Bloom nods. 

“I'm going to freeze my blood completely. You need to bring me to the hospital and, once they have this, “ she carefully pats her puncture wound, “patched up, I need you to melt the ice in my veins.” 

“You’re going to trust me with that?” 

Icy sniffs indignantly, “you’re a softie, you won’t let me die.” She shudders, she is more worried over her own abilities. Freezing her own blood is no easy feat; feeling each and every vein slowly solidifying is terribly unpleasant. The enteirty of her body goes frigid; blood, bone, flesh, and soul, until the only scrap of warmth comes from Bloom’s hand on hers. 

.oOo.

Bloom is surprised by how much relief she feels when Icy partially opens her eyes. She squints against the sun that streams through the parted curtains. 

“You… actually saved me?” Icy asks. 

“Of course!” Bloom exclaims. She offers a bright smile. The witch sits up and flinches. “Take it easy!” 

“I’m fine.” Icy insists. 

Bloom slides her a glass of water which she only glares at after folding her arms over her chest. 

“This is your fault, you need to save yourself.” 

“I didn’t ask you to take the hit.:

Icy frowns with more intensity. “You didn’t have to.” She mutters. 

Bloom smirks, “you  _ wanted  _ to save me.”

“I have a job, yes. And the sooner I do it, the sooner I can get back to my own aspirations.” 

“You like me, don’t you?” 

“You’re the most loathsome person I’ve ever crossed.” She says. 

“And yet you decided that you like me anyways.” Never has she seen the witch look so thoroughly unammused. 

“That was a one time thing, don’t think too much of it.” She scowls. But it lacks the malice that her glares usually hold. 

Bloom can’t hold back a sly smile, but she decides ultimately not to push her luck. She doesn’t want to push the witch away. Not when she is just beginning to make something of the final chance that she has been given. “Okay, okay.” She lifts her hands. “You were just doing your job.”

“That’s right.” Icy confirms with a firm nod. 

Perhaps in time she’ll be able to be more open with her feelings. Bloom has to admit that she has taken a shine to the witch for herself. Though it is more satisfying to let Icy make the first move. 

Who is she kidding? The witch already has. 


	3. Raspberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: At Work  
> Fandom: Once Upon A Time  
> Pair: Swan Queen  
> Summary: Emma pesters a ticklish Regina while she is trying to work.

Emma smirks mischievously. 

“Emma, you better not.” Regina warns. “You better…”

Emma wiggles her brows. “Better not what?” She asks before practically pouncing on the woman. 

“Emma…" her voice still holds that warning tone but she is flashing a humored smile. It is Emma’s cue to proceed. She lifts the mayor’s shirt just enough to reveal her belly, presses her lips to the woman’s naval, and blows. “Emma, I’m going to kill you!” She is trying to suppress a laugh but it isn’t entirely working. 

Emma takes a moment of pause before resuming her fluffy attack. This time Regina laughs more openly, “Emma, I swear…” she musters through her laughs. “I’m at work.”

“Raspberries are funner than tax forms.” Emma declares. Regina gives her a light swat as she continues to blow on her belly, making that ridiculous spitting sound. 

“Yes, but taxes need to be done.” Regina quirks a brow. 

“And sheriffs need attention.” Emma counters. “And mayors need days off.” She boops Regina’s nose. She rolls her eyes and sits up. 

“I give you plenty of attention.” Regina remarks. 

“You don’t give me raspberries!”

“Something tells me that you like giving them more than getting them.” 

Emma’s devious smirk returns. “Your suspicions are correct.” 

“Em…” This time she doesn’t even get to finish her warning before Emma is blowing on her tummy again. The mayor tosses her head back in a more or less uncontrolled fit of laughter. 

“This is why I can’t get any work done.” 

“It’s not my fault that you’re so ticklish. And that you snort when you laugh.” 

Regina bolts up, “I most certainly do not.” 

“You do so.” Emma declears. 

Regina folds her arms over her chest. “I have work to do.” 

“You’re trying to change the subject.” Emma accuses. 

With a soft ‘hmmph’, Regina pulls her shirt back down. And just on time for Mr. Gold to walk in. “Has my building permit been approved?” He asks.

“We’ll finish this chat later, Swan.” She turns to Gold. “It has been. I just need you to sign a few things.” 

“If you say so, Madame Mayor.” Emma grins. “I’ll see you at home.”


	4. After The Glitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Perform   
> Fandom: Legend Of Korra  
> Pair: Kuvira/Korra  
> Summary: Set after the season finale, Kuvira takes up a profession as a jazz singer.

The air is tinged with moats of dust and music notes. Kuvira slides from one note to the next in time with the saxophone. Her glitzy, green sequined dress glimmers in the spotlights as she slowly sways her hips to the beat of the song. It is a nightly endeavor, and a good way to pass her time. Since her days of conquer have come to a close, she occupies herself with song and dance. It is both solace and discomfort to be in front of an adoring crowd. To swap one kind of performance for another is somewhat disorienting. 

With eyes lined lightly with glittering charcoal, she scans the crowd for a particular face. She finds Korra in the very front. She gives Kuvira a wave and Kuvira flashes a smile. She slides her hand down the mic stand and then back up to where she curls her fingers around the microphone. 

She holds her note for a few beats before letting her voice fade out, her final note resonates about the theater. 

She is met with familiar claps and cheers. In some sense she feels as though she is still The Great Uniter. It brings both a sense of power and a feeling of nausea. She sets the feeling aside; tonight's mood is smooth and suave and she needs to fill the image lest her musical career take a downward spiral. 

She draws a golden pipe and takes a drag to calm her sudden burst of nervousness before making her parting statements. She bids her audience a good night and safe trips home. The flutters in her stomach refuse to subside, even as the room begins to clear. 

She doesn’t know why she does this. 

No. That isn’t strictly true. 

Jazz is an art form that she cherishes; on several occasions it had saved her life. Had helped fill an emptiness. The music filled her bed after Baatar had left it. If offered her warmth where her parents didn’t. 

So it is a dream to perform jazz. To see that look of admiration and comfort in the eyes of her audience. 

It isn’t the music that unsettles her so. It is the idolization. The way a few of her listeners put her on a pedestal. 

The fanatic sort of worship.

The familiarity of their fanatic looks unsettles her deeply. Coaxing that unhealthy sense of unquestioning admiration is a chapter of her life that she is trying to close. 

Korra is waiting for her backstage. 

Somewhat shaky and with images of domination and conquer resurfacing, Kuvira kicks off her heels and slips out of that uncomfortable form-hugging dress. She takes another drag before dressing herself in something light in formality and heavy in comfortability. 

“You did great tonight.” Korra remarks as she massages Kuvira’s shoulders. She presses a kiss to her neck. “You always do.” 

“Thank you.” Kuvira replies quietly. 

“What’s wrong?” Korra asks. “It really was an amazing show. I liked the little dance…”

“It’s not that.” Kuvira puts her pipe aside. “It’s the way that they look at me...it reminds me of…” She had no doubt that they’d do anything she asks of them just because they love what she can do with her voice. Just because she can sing. 

“Need a break from the spotlight?”

“Yes, something like that...” Kuvira trails off. She finds herself a seat. 

Korra plops down next to her and rubs her rigid shoulders some more. “Try to relax, you’re so tense.” She coos. Her voice is soothing. It reminds Kuvira of when she had awoke in the Spirit World in the woman’s arms. “It’s nothing like  _ that _ . You’re not like  _ that  _ anymore, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She takes in Kuvira’s expression. “I can see it in your eyes. You just like the music.” She works to unravel the tight braided bun that Kuvira has her hair fashioned in, muttering something about a crazy amount of bobby pins. 

“Thank you, Korra.” She feels some of the stress leave her body. The Avatar always seems to know how to talk her down.

“Do you want to grab some dinner?” Korra asks. 

“Dinner sounds nice.” Something with candles might take more edge off of her antsy mood.

Korra gives a soft smile and wraps her arms around Kuvira’s torso. The earthbender leans into her, trying to get comfy. Spirits, she doesn’t know why people assume that she hates cuddles. Sometimes she simply craves the contact. Korra nestles her head in the crook of Kuvira’s neck. 

“We’re going to have to leave before they close the venute.” Korra notes. 

“I’m quite comfortable here.” 

“Our sofa is nice too…”

“I’d like to wait out the crowd.” Kuvira counters. “They can wait a few minutes to lock up.” 

“I guess.” Korra caves with a laugh.

Kuvira cups her hand over Korra’s and closes her eyes. She feels the Avatar’s finger brush and stroke the skin beneath. 

She exhales. 

On nights like these, she must admit that she likes being backstage much more than the performances themselves. 

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Just a few more minutes.” Kuvira replies, as Korra strokes her hair. “Just a few more minutes…”


	5. The Red Ribbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Ribbon   
> Fandom: Avatar  
> Pair: Azula/Mai  
> Summary: Mai visits Azula in the institution and helps her fix her hair.

Mai runs the brush through Azula’s ravaged tresses. The princess isn’t sure if the tingles in her belly come from Mai seeing her in such a pathetic and haphazard state or from Mai simply being there. 

She isn't’ sure why her former friend is visiting. Visiting and talking to her as though they don’t have any bad blood towards one another. 

Mai sighs, “I’m going to have to cut your bangs. Hopefully I can even them out.” 

Azula touches her fingers to her uneven bangs and bites the inside of her cheek. She likes her bangs. At least she likes the one side that she hasn’t made a mess of. She gives Mai and affirmative nod regardless. 

Mai gives the ribbon in her hair a tug. It falls away and Azula’s locks fan out and settle like silk over her shoulders. “Alright, hold still and I’ll see if I can make something of this.”

“You can’t possibly do a worse job than I did.” 

“It’s not as bad as you think.” Mai reassures. “It shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”

Azula shrugs. “If you do mess it up, no one is going to see me anyways, I’m stuck in here.” Here eyes grow more downcast.

“Not for long.” Mai makes the first cut. Azula hears the snip of scissors. “Zuko has been talking about letting you get therapy at home.” 

“Home…” She repeats to herself. 

A few more snips and the floor is dotted with her hair. Mai holds a mirror up. The knots in Azula’s belly grow. She finds that she doesn’t like how it looks without her bangs to frame her face. “I don’t like it.” She mumbles glumly. 

“Hmm.” Mai hums. “You want me to give you a full haircut? I think that I have a good haircut for you.” 

Azula hesitates. She supposes that Mai can’t make her hair look any worse. Unless of course she puts a deliberate effort into doing so. “I don’t know…” 

“It’ll suit you very well. Trust me.” 

There it is. 

That’s the problem. 

It always is. Azula fidgets with the ribbon, curling it around her pointer.

Mai rolls her eyes. “It’s a haircut not a second attempt at friendship.” 

She thinks that Mai is only joking but she also considers that, perhaps, she does want it to be a rekindled friendship. The notion unsettles her. 

“Alright.” She decides. “You can cut it.” If she ends up liking what Mai does with her hair, she will take it as her sign to trust the girl with larger matters. If this is a ploy to further humiliate her then she will retreat back into the safety of self isolation. 

Mai picks up the scissors, not knowing how much weight they truly hold. She clips up the portions of Azula’s hair that she isn’t working with. “You seem like you’re doing better. : 

Azula shrugs. It’s all relevant. “A little.” Not shrieking and conversing with things that aren’t there is a start. 

“I guess you’ll do better at home.” Mai replies as she cuts away. “TyLee was always good at cheering you up. Even if you won’t admit it.” 

“She makes me happy.” Azula confesses. “Made.” She corrects. “You both did.” She adds very quietly. 

“Well maybe I’ll make you happy again today.”

Azula swallows. “Maybe...I hope so.” She tries to sound confident or at least nonchalant. But she feels so meek and small. 

Mai nods in way of an answer. Something about her continued silence makes Azula want to speak. To alleviate the awkward tension. It could be that she is the only one who feels the tension. “I just want things to go back to the way they were.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Mai mutters coldly.

She knows this, but it doesn’t lessen the desire. Her conversation having failed, she stares at her palms. 

“But things can get better.” Mai adds. “They got better for me.” 

_ Because I’m no longer in your life.  _ Azula fills in. She doesn’t say it out loud. It must bleed through in her posture because Mai says, “don’t move so much. Things are a lot easier without having to worry about a war.”

But Azula doesn’t know anything else. She isn’t sure that she will be able to adjust. This time she creates the silence. 

Mai takes a step back, she looks Azula over and resumes snipping. Azula watches her locks fall. 

Long locks. 

Her stomach sinks. 

“Almost done.” 

“You hate me.” She remarks simply. 

Mai inhales deeply. “I don’t hate you. I’m mad as hell, but I don’t hate you.” Azula wonders all over again, why she is here doing her a favor. 

She goes quiet again. She doesn’t even know how to begin to fix things. “I don’t want you to be. Believe it or not, I don’t like being alone.” 

“Geeze.” Mai laughs. “What have they done to you? I haven’t seen this level of brainwashing since Ba Sing Se.”

“They haven’t done anything. I’m just…” she pauses. “Sad.” Sad, resigned, and fresh out of dignity. 

“If it makes you feel better, I broke up with Zuko. He’s been ignoring me to focus on his duties as Fire Lord.”

It doesn’t. In fact, it makes things worse. It makes her feel as though she had been abandoned for no reason at all. Until she recalls her less than spectacular treatment of the woman. Her lower lip quivers and she finds herself biting the inside of her lip. 

Mai steps back again. She ruffles Azula’s hair, it feels so much lighter. “There, you’re done.” Mai holds up the mirror again. 

Azula swallows. She runs her fingers through her hair. “It’s so short.” She isn’t sure how to feel about it. The neat and orderly way Mai has it styled tells her that the girl hadn’t cut it so short out of ill will. Still, the princess isn’t sure how to feel about having hair reaching only just below her ears. 

“Very observant.” Mai quips. “You implied that you wanted a fresh start, so I figured that we can start with your hair.” She picks up the ribbon that had once so tightly confined Azula’s hair. “We’ll start by discarding your dad’s restrictions and traditions.” 

_ A small act of defiance. Embracing imperfections. _ Azula thinks to herself. She inspects her reflection further. The face in the glass is so familiar, yet profoundly different. Perhaps more mature, more angular. 

“Well?” 

“It’s…” she trails off. Going to take some adjusting...a lot of adjusting. “Nice, I suppose.” It certainly isn’t unflattering or poorly suited. “Thank you for making something of my mess.” 

“So you’d trust me to cut it again?”

“I suppose.” She hesitates. “I. I trust you.” Though it sounds more like a question than a statement. 

“That’s a start.” Mai says. 

“Visiting hours are up.” Calls a voice. 

Azula frowns, it is always when things are beginning to pick up. “You’re going to visit again, yes?” Her stomach lurches; it was a wonder that she even stopped by this time. 

“How else am I going to hear about how everyone reacts to your new haircut?”

Azula tries a smile. It is small and somewhat melancholy, but there no less. She holes the ribbon out to Mai. “I guess that I have no use for this.” 

“True.” Mai agrees.

“Hold on to it for me?” 

“Sure.” Mai agrees. She takes the ribbon, unwittingly accepting another test of faith. She heads for the doorway and pauses before going through it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Somehow, parting ways with the ribbon feels like she is setting this in stone. The door closes and she runs her fingers though her hair once more. 

It is a reminder of a fresh start. 

Of a chance to tell Mai just how much she means to her. A chance to finally vocalize the love she had so carefully repressed. 


	6. Rose Scented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lazy  
> Fandom: Avatar  
> Pair: Azula/Katara  
> Summary: Struggling with depression, Azula finds it hard to take care of herself.

Katara purses her lips, “geeze, look at this.”

Azula shifts awkwardly, little butterflies begin tingling in her tummy. 

“How long has it been since you combed this!?”

Azula flushes as Katara works through the knots and tangles. “Sorry.” She mutters. “Sometimes I just…” she falters. “Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to do it. She finishes with a sigh. 

It has been a bad month and she finds herself embarrassed by her lack of self care and poor hygiene. 

She cringes and Katara apologizes. Azula shakes her head. “I didn’t flinch because of you.” 

No, she had cringed because of her own introspection. She feels gross and unhealthy; how long has it been since she’s bathed?

Brushed her teeth?

Changed her clothes? 

She isn’t sure how Katara can stand to be around her. She’s filthy. A complete mess, emotionally and outwardly. 

“What kind of person is too lazy to brush their own teeth?” She groans aloud, unshed tears prickle her eyes. It is the kind of deeply rooted sorrow and desperation that has her self-confined to her bed in the first place. 

Katara sets the comb aside and pulls Azula into a tight hug. “You aren’t lazy. You’re just sad.” 

She is so much more than sad. Depressed. The diagnosis surfaces in her mind and she feels weepy all over again. “I can’t even take care of myself. I should be able to…”

Katara squeezes her tighter. Maybe if she clings on tight enough, she can squeeze the misery out of her. “It’s alright, you just need to give yourself some time. I don’t mind combing your hair and helping you out until then.” 

Azula doesn’t know what it is, but something about that compels her unshed tears to fall. 

“Oh, Azula.” Katara says softly. She cradles the crying princess in her arms.

“It’s humiliating.” 

“I’m not judging.” Katara assures. 

“Everyone else is.  _ I _ am.” She wipes at her eyes with the back of her baggy sleeves. “I want to be able to take care of myself again. But I just don’t have the drive.”

Katara rubs her back in counseling circles. “I have an idea.” 

Azula peers up at her expectantly. Her eyes are bleary and tired.

“How about you don’t do it alone.” She gives Azula’s hand another gentle squeeze. “How about I help you. I can find you a change of clothes and you can put them on. I can comb one side of your hair and you can finish the job.” She elaborates. “Just until you can do it all alone again.” 

Azula swallows. It doesn’t seem like a bad idea. At least if she does things halfway, she won’t feel completely useless. “Alright.” She agrees quietly. It is nearly as embarrassing to admit that she needs help doing such basic tasks. But, Agni, if she can barely force herself to eat then she can use the support. 

“Do you want to start with a bath?” Katara asks with a small smile. She strokes the princess’ hair. “Or should we start smaller.” 

It would seem that Katara knows her well. It is certainly the most daunting task. But, Agni, its completion would be the most rewarding. 

She would feel clean again. 

Like herself again. 

“Yes, I would like that.” 

For the first time in days, Azula rises from her bed. 

Katara grins, coaxing from Azula, her first smile in months. She takes the princess’ hand. “Is rose scented soap fine?”


	7. Comet Cinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Glass  
> Fandom: Voltron  
> Pair: Acxa/Allura  
> Summary: Cinderella AU with Acxa as Cinderella and Allura as the prince.

Once upon a time in space a baby was born. A baby of half blood; one part human and one part Galran. The babe had delicate skin of a soft blue hue and a sweep of hair the color of sapphire. She peers at her parents with eyes as soft blue as her skin. 

Regardless of blood, the babe grew up loved and cherished. The child loved watching the stars twinkle and blink and would often sit under them with something to read. The child grew up kind and caring with a mother who was just as so.

It wasn’t until the child turned thirteen that her life seemed to shatter. For their house nestled in a hidden corner of Daibazaal had been found. For the crime of marrying a human and birthing a halfblood, the child’s mother was killed. 

Only after serving ‘justice’ did the crowd leave. In their wake was left a grieving husband and a timid child. The man thought that he wouldn’t know happiness again. Desperate was he, enough to fall for a cruel, cold Galra woman who had no love for a lowly half-breed.

In his anguish, the man was blind to the mistreatment of his daughter. 

The man was a trader and as such he was prone to travel for extended periods of time. During his travels, his daughter grew lovelier still. 

She was small for a Galra but it suited her well. At thirteen years, her horns had grown in, elegant and cut like polished obsidian. Mostly they were buried under waist long locks of deep blue. Her eyes were as warm and kind as her complexion was cool. For it, her stepmother and sisters hated her twice over. 

When the girl’s father was gone, the last scraps of false kindness fell away. 

They dressed the girl in rags and exposed her to various cruelties and neglect. 

Mostly, they made a slave of the girl. They shut her away from the stars that she loved so, confining her to the dark and dusty underbelly of their home where the life and hope in her eyes diminished. And where her health deteriorated.

It became a pass time for the eldest sister to fling one of her opulent rings or ornate necklaces into a particularly large pile of comet cinders and have the girl sift through them to find it. 

So she was nicknamed Cometcinder. 

More often than not, her complexion was blotted out by splotches of comet dust. “You should thank her, Cometcinder, she helps you cover your halfbree’s skin.” Says her step mother. 

But Cometcinder feels no such gratitude. 

On a night where the cosmos were particularly spectacular, Cometcinder could bear no more. The constellations were enticing, beckoning her outside. So she answered their call. In the cool night air, her heart fluttered with the joy of finally having a serene night, free of demands and demeaning words. 

The best night of her life was followed by the worst. For her misdeed of skipping chores could not go unpunished. Her step mother dragged her by the hair into the house where her step sisters waited, sneering. 

“Maybe we should make her sleep outside.” The youngest suggests. “Since she likes it out there so much.”

That night, they took a pair of scissors to her long locks, chopping away at them until her hair was fashioned into a scraggly and uneven bob. 

They kicked at her and spat on her and stole the compass from her pocket. She’d fought furiously to keep her cherished item--the one thing that truly belonged to her--but they had pried it from her fingers. They crushed it before her eyes, so taking from her, the last thing she had of her mother. 

But they did not take without giving. 

That night they gave her the news that her father’s craft had been blasted by the ray of a weeblum. 

Even still, the kindness didn’t flee her soul. Though terribly shrouded in sorrow and reduced to finding companionship with space mice, she maintained generosity and patience. 

Days turned to weeks and weeks into months, before news came of a gala. A supposedly flashy ball to celebrate the auroras and the birthday of the young princess Allura. 

Meek and quietly, the girl inquired if she could attend. “Looking like  _ that _ ?” her mother sneered.

“You can dress me nicely and…”

“You’ll embarrass us.” The younger daughter commented. 

Cometcinder swallowed, her belly tingling with heartache and yearning. Just this one night, she only wants this one night. As her step family departed, their space pods the girl hugged her knees to her chest and fought back tears. 

If only to occupy her mind, she took to polishing the houses metallic floors and upkeeping and managing the data on the house’s computer. 

With most housetasks aside, the girl wandered out to view the night sky. 

It must have been an hour before a voice like an electrical hum sounded in her ear. “You’re going to be late.” It commented. 

The girl tilted her head and tried to find the source. 

“Over here.” 

She turned to face the computer. It had taken to projecting a hologram. An image of a small, iridescent orb that flashed softly and occasionally shifted color. “I have run through various simulations of realities and have decided that it is most optimal that you meet the princess Allura.” The robotic voice declared. The orb drifted nearer and Cometcinder took a reflexive step back. 

“I’m mean only to help. I will make sure that you will impress.” The orb made its staticy promise. It hovered over to a dressing pod. “Step in please.”    


Reluctantly she does so. The machine whirred to life a soft green light scanned her up and down, taking in her measurements before producing an outfit for her. Replacing the rags was a slee one piece suit of midnight blue latex, outlined in vivid neon blue. She barely had time to appreciate it before the orb said, “now let's do something about this.” In a series of zippy motions, the orb singed off locks of her hair until it fell evenly. 

The orb halted before shedding small beads of electric blue light. It fixed them into her hair and accented her horns with them. At the ends of her hair they dangled like glow-worm threads. It completed her look by placing a glass helm over her head. 

Satisfied and having completed its task it buzzed, “follow me.”

The girl nodded and allowed it to lead her down the hall to where her family stored their spare parts and discarded devices and machines. “Do you prefer a V-style craft or would you like a more classic spherical model?”

“Something simple.” Cometcinder answered. 

The orb grew in size and flitted about, moving pieces and parts until an elegant black craft shaped like a jagged triangle sat before her. “I implore you to enjoy your ball. But my power has its limits.” The orb paused. “The system will glitch and shut down at precisely midnight. For an optimal ending, I advise that you leave before then.” 

The Galra stroked the craft’s steering wheel, still skeptical of its reality. She smiled to herself; she will meet the Altaen princess after all. 

**.oOo.**

The ballroom was nothing like she had ever seen. Vast and made of black titanium, UV veins of purple streaked the walls and ceiling. The floor glimmered and sparkled with chips of amethyst. 

She saw all manners of dress from simple one piece jumpsuits like her own to elaborate gowns with glowing hems and tall collars lined with LED lights. Hues popped and flashed from all ends of the color spectrum.

But most eye catching of all was the princess herself. She stood in a tiered white gown. Each layer had a ring of magenta light outlining it, creating glowing halos on the layers below. Her hair was fashioned in an updo adorned with various crystals in shades of violet and pink. 

For as much as Cometcinder was compelled to strike up conversation, she couldn’t bring herself. It had been years since she’d spoken to anyone save for a space mouse and she feared for her social competence and mannerisms. 

All in all, the setting and its extravagance overwhelmed her. 

She met the princess’ eyes and she flushed. The noise in the room seemed to swell as Allura broke away from Cometcinder’s eldest sister. She found herself shaky with nerves and her nerves whisk her abruptly away from the jubilant chaos of the ballroom. 

Palms still shaking, she sat beneath the silently enchanting bursts of the auroras. She wished that she weren’t so terribly shy. 

“Hey!” A voice greeted. “I was hoping to catch you!” 

Cometcinder took to staring intensely at the back of her hands. 

“I’ve never seen you at any of my balls before.” 

“I don’t get out much.” She confessed. An understatement, considering that she hadn’t been beyond her yard in several years. 

Allura laughed. “Well, welcome to the outside world! You picked a great time to see it.” She gestured to the sky and its drifting, dancing splendor. 

“I’m more taken by you than the auroras.” Cometcinder admitted. 

Allura smiled. “You have a name?”

She nodded. “I am Acxa.” It was weird on her lips, for it was the first time she had said her name since her mother died. Somehow, saying it made her feel less like an object. 

:”That’s a pretty name.” 

“Not as pretty as Allura.” 

This time the princess blushes. “Hey, you’ve never gone to a ball before, does that mean that you’ve never danced?” 

Acxa’s face grew hotter still. “I have not.” she confirmed. 

“Can I teach you?” 

“Yes please..” She paused. “Can we dance out here, away from everyone?” It would certainly make her feel less nervous. 

“Dancing under the lights does sound nice.” Allura nodded. The princess walked her through the steps of The Weeblum’s Waltz and The Daibazaal Ditty. 

As she did so she told Acxa of the bustling spacecraft travel center and of her favorite places to stray to when running a kingdom become too heavy a burden. In turn, Acxa spoke of her father’s ventures as a tradesman and of the cute space mice. 

“Oh! You’ll have to show me one day.” The princess gushed. The way her eyes lit up almost caused Acdxa to forget the orb’s warning. 

“I would love to show you them.” Acxa said as the half hour bell chimed. 

“Can I?” Allura asked, her fingers traced over Acxa’s glass helm. 

Acxa didn’t know what she was asking until she began lifting the helm. Acxxa curled her fingers around her slender wrists. The bell chimed again and that tiem Acxa jerked and sprung to her feet. Her sudden movement caused the glass helm to fall to the floor. She heard it crack but she had no time to be embarrassed, much less to mourn the semi-shatter of her beautiful helmet. 

She didn’t stop to pick it up. 

“Wait!” Allura’s calls grew distant as she sought out her craft. “I’m sorry! I thought that you wouldn’t mind.” 

Acxa’s mind spun, through her jumbled thoughts, she felt horrible for departing so hastily and without explanation. She couldn’t even say why she was so eager to get home when there had been a perfect chance to find freedom from it and from her tormentors. She took a moment of pause, considering letting the system shut down. But she couldn’t imagine that Allura would be captured by her scruffy and unkempt appearance. 

She wished that she hadn’t looked back. 

Allura stood in the vacant spot where Acxa’s craft had been, with her head hanging low. 

By the time she made it home she was in rags again and her craft crumbled into trinkets and spare parts. 

There was no glamor in that house. 

It was empty and silent. 

**.oOo.**

“She is smitten with you.” Acxa’s stepmother says to her eldest daughter. “You are going to be a royal”

It was all Acxa hard in the next several days.

“She’s smitten with a stranger.” The youngest scowled. 

“Who abandoned her.” The stepmother reassured. “I can’t imagine she still has any love for the stranger. 

Acxa’s eyes burned with tears for her lost opportunity and chance at love. 

Confined to her room for disopadiance and negligence of her duties, she was only able to get snippets of rumors regarding her rude departure. 

From them, she assumed that the princess must not think fondly of her anymore. 

She thought it cruel that she had been given a taste of freedom, at what life could have been, only to have it so rudely yanked away from her. 

“The princess is trying to find the stranger.” The youngest informed glumly. 

“Then your sister shall try on the helm and insist that it is hers. 

Acxa bunched her fists. 

“She should be here soon, so get yourself ready, Ethnor.” Ethnor nodded. “Dress yourself well.” She turned to Acxa. “And you keep out of sight. We can’t have anything unsightly just prancing about.” 

Her demand came just shy of a knock at the door. The Galra woman cursed. “Stick to the kitchen she hissed. “And keep your ugly, half-breed mouth shut.” 

Acxa sighed. “As you wish, mother. The word sat ill on her tongue. 

The girl made her way to the kitchen as the door opened. 

“Good evening princess!” Her stepmother greeted her with a false sweetness. It sickened and unsettled Acxa. She yearned to scowl and out the woman for the beast she was. 

And what was stopping her?

Decidedly, she was a coward. 

“Oh thank you, princess! I didn’t think that I’d find it again!” Ethnor exclaimed. She could practically see her fitting the helm over her bulbous head. 

A moment’s pause. 

Following it was a forced and gritted toothed, “I can’t get it on.” 

“She is not my love.” Allura declared. 

A warm tingle of hope swelled in Acxa’s chest. 

“Give her a moment.” Her step mother hissed. And then, “are you sure that that’s not your sister’s? Give Ragna her helm back.” 

Acxa couldn’t hold back a small snicker as she listened to the girl struggle. Her embarrassing predicament gave Acxa just enough courage to step forward. 

She lingered in the doorway fighting her brain for words. They didn’t come so she only stood there dumbly. 

“Who is that?” Allura asks. 

“Oh that’s just Cinder.” Ragna dismissed. “Our servant.” 

Acxa bit her lip. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She said at last. 

“Again?” Her step mother asked. 

Acxa nodded and reached for the cracked helm. “May I?” 

“Please.” Allura said as her stepmother cried, “absolutely not.” 

Acxa closed her eyes and pulled the helm over her head. 

Allura looked as cheery as her step family looked outraged. But that time they had no power to act on their simmering wrath. Acxa stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the small princess, taking comfort in her warmth. “I apologize for leaving so abruptly, I had to make it back home before they did.” 

Allura nods. “It’s alright. But a goodbye would be nice next time.” 

“If you will…” She stammered. “If you will have me back at the castle, you won't’ have to worry about a next time.” 


	8. I Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sword  
> Fandom: Avatar  
> Pair: Azula/Mai  
> Summary: Mai gets stabbed and Azula has to help her.

It is only when the sword meets Mai’s chest that Azula realizes how much she cares for the woman. She throws a furious bolt of lightning into the main who’d delivered the blow. 

He drops in an instant. 

“Mai…” Azula fives the woman’s cheeks a few light slaps, trying to rouse her into alertness. “Mai, don’t leave me again.”

Mai mumbles something incoherent. 

Azula cups Mai’s face in her hands. It seems that they had only just made amends. 

“You were fine the first time.” Mai winced. 

“I lost my mind, Mai.” She reminds quietly. 

Mai sighs. “Yeah, well, you won't be alone this time. You’ll have TyLee and Zuko....”

“I want you.” Azula replies. “I need you, Mai.” She finds herself longing to be a waterbender so that she could mend Mai’s wounds. 

“You’ll be fine.” Mai assures her. She reaches out and brushes Azula’s bangs aside. 

But she doesn’t think that she will be. If Mai dies now she knows that the image will never leave her mind. 

The sword arcing through the air. 

She is unable to act quickly enough. 

That horrid wet squelch and a rush of blood.

Even if she lives, Azula thinks that the memory will continue to replay itself in her dreams. 

“You all think that I’m stronger than I am.” 

Mai frowns, “don’t start doing that…”

“I couldn’t protect you.” 

“If I can’t protect myself then I can’t expect you to.”

That is exactly how Azula imagines that it doesn’t work. “I should have been able.” 

Mai draws a shuddering, struggled breath and Azula’s unease grows deeper. She coughs and a bubble of blood seeps through her lips. “Don’t leave me Mai. I…” she hesitates. “I love you.” 

“Oh, spirits! Seriously?” She gives a choking laugh. 

Azula’s cheeks burn. 

“You waited until  _ now  _ to say that?”

Azula swallows, she should have mentioned sooner. 

Should have, should have. 

There are so many of those. 

And there will only be more if she can’t get herself together and allows herself to go weak and useless. 

Abruptly, she pulls her hand out of Mai’s and scans her surroundings. 

“Do you have any darts that aren’t laced?” Her voice is much shakier than she would have liked. 

“I have three that I didn’t get around to poisoning.” Mai responds weakly. 

“Give them to me.” 

Mai slips them from her sleeves. 

Azula breaks the needle off and rips a seam from her robes. “Try not to move too much.” 

Mai clenches her teeth at the needles first bite. Azula musters as much of her cold apathy as she can manage. By the eighth stitch, Mai is pleading with Azula to just stop and let her go. 

Seeing and hearing so much emotion and torment from someone so normally deadpan has Azula tensing further. 

She focuses on the moment that Mai had left her for Zuko. Left her alone, abandoned, and with the sting of betrayal. Dwelling on it until she has reduced Mai to nothing but that one moment. Allows herself to simmer in her former hatred. 

She, for a time, can ignore the woman’s pained requests. 

“There’s something wrong with you!” Mai accuses. 

She almost drops the needle. 

**.oOo.**

Azula keeps her distance. Mai had looked at her with such rage and hatred. Maybe she had no right to force her to endure that. I

WIas it not her right to choose death over suffering?

But Azula likes to think that, that had been the pain talking. 

Still she can’t put aside her guilt. 

This is what she has been reduced to; an awkward, guilt-riddled mess. She rakes her hand through her hairline. 

“Mai wants to talk to you.” TyLee says. 

Azula wanders into the infirmary. 

“I’m the one who got impaled, so why are you the one who looks so rough?” 

“I haven’t slept since it happened.” Azula admits. “It comes back in my dreams, just like I thought it would.” It among other memories that she can’t seem to suppress. 

“At least you didn’t just sit there and cry about it.” Mai shrugs. “You did something.” 

But she had come close to just giving up. Precariously close. 

“You’re angry with me.” She says flatly. 

“Why do you think that?” 

“You asked me what was wrong with me.” 

Mai cringes, she knows that she had it a raw spot. “I wasn’t thinking straight.” She pauses. “You weren’t either; I mean, you told me that you loved me.”

“I was.” Azula refuts. “I was thinking straight. For once. I do love you and that’s why I had to save you.” She pauses. “Even if you can’t love me, I had to save you.”

Mai rolls her eyes. “Is everyone in your family so dramatic? I can love you, Azula.” She takes her hand. “You’re aggravating to be around sometimes and you’re very hard to deal with, but I’ve done it since we were kids. I can love you.” 

Azula squeezes her hand. “Thank you.” 


	9. A Storm & A Candle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Candle  
> Fandom: Avatar  
> Pair: Azula/Yue  
> Summary: Yue used a stormy day as an opportunity to build pillow forts.

She lights one candle and then the next. For such little things they cast a powerful glow. Thunder rumbles and roars outside. The goes tense and Azula takes the excuse to hold her close.

She listens to the sound of rain bearing against the windowpane and atop the roof.

Azula a love of storms isn't something that she shares with her girlfriend. Where Azula takes comfort in the sound of rolling thunder, Yue finds anxiety.

Another flash lights the room and Azula feels Yue go tense against her.

"You don't have to be afraid." Azula mumbles, not that it will help any.

"I just wish that the power would come..." she jolts when another crash of thunder sounds.

"How about this?" Azula begins. "I'm going to grab a blanket and we can watch some DVDs on my laptop until it dies."

Yue shakes her head. "Just get a blanket please."

Azula wanders across the room to fetch a blanket. She drapes it around Yue and kisses her forehead before starting a warm blaze in the fireplace. A gust of howling autumn wind throws leaves at the window, reminds ding her of why the fireplace is now in use.

"Cozy." Yue remarks.

"That's the point." Azula replies.

A grin breaks over Yue's face. "You know what I used to do on rainy days?"

"The same thing that you do now? Hide under the covers?" Azula quirks a brow.

Yue rolls her eyes. "I built blanket forts." without any further warning, she throws the blanket over the sofa and the chair next to it. "Come on, grab some blankets and pillows."

"This is ridiculous." Azula remarks several blankets in. Having already torn the cushions off of her sofa, she is beginning to feel like a child.

"You're having fun." Yue insists.

"I'm making a mess of my apartment, that's what I'm doing." She finds herself glad to not have to worry about a scolding from her father.

"Oh! Get your lava lamp and put it in the center of our fort!"

" you mean the one that requires electricity to work?"

"Oh. Right. Well what about that decorative light that looks like a moon?"

Azula shuffles around the apartment until she finds the light. "Perfect!" Yue exclaims. She pulls out her phone and Azula k owns that this will end up online.

She is just happy that Yue is no longer starting at every roll of thunder.

"Join me!" Yue beckons her into the fort.

"I'm coming." Azula says. She blows out the candles, leaving onlly the moon lamp and fireplace to light the room. Yue pulls out her iPod and starts her indie playlist.

Azula dicks under a quilt and sits herself on Yue's lap.

"Hey! I usually sit on your lap."

"Hmm...not this time." Azula decides. She is on the mood to be held. Yue obliges. They sit in front of the crackling fire. Azula savors it's crackle and pop beneath the litter patter of rain while Yue Huns along with the current song.

A particularly loud bang has Yue gripping her tighter.

"Geez, not so tight!" Azula wheezes.

"Sorry." Yue apologizes. "I guess that my pillow fort can't protect me." She pauses. "But I know someone who can."

Azula takes this as her cue to run her hand over Yue's head and oress a kiss to her cheek. "I suppose that I can."

Outside nature continues her fit. But it is no bother to Azula. Not at all. No she likes such fits. She likes them very much. Without the storms she wouldn't have cozy nights like these, where Yue clings to her and a fire blazes.


	10. Perpetual Black

“Ku...” the ringing in her ears grows louder. “...vir…” It puts other sounds into indistinguishable snippets. “...a.” The feeling in her head is splitting and her eyes burn. Her flesh tingles and burns as though she’d been in summer sun all day. 

There comes a sensation of hands shaking her. 

But she is so dizzy and faint. Too weak to answer to the calling voices. 

**.oOo.**

Kuvira thinks that she is awake, but her world is still black. 

She feels, vividly, a plush pillow under her head. She can smell ammonia quite sharply. Can hear voices and footfalls. 

“She’s awake. Asami, she’s awake.”

Kuvira perks up at the name, but a ripple of pain and nausea sends her back to the pillows. 

“Whao, take it easy.” Korra says.

“What happened to me?” She asks weakly. 

“There was an explosion and you took the blast for me.” Asami explains. 

Kuvira’s mind is fuzzy, memories blown away by the blast. She realizes that she can’t quite remember the days leading up to it either. 

“Toph is going to be here soon to help you.” Asami mentions.

“Help me?” Kuvira begins. And finally it registers that her vision is still wolly black. 

“The doctors say that you might get some vision back but it’ll just be blurs.” Asami informs. 

“Fuck…” Kuvira sputters. “And you said that you had some new lingerie to show me!” She doesn’t need sight to know that her girlfriend is flushing. 

“Kuvira, this is serious!”

“I know! I won’t be able to tell you how wonderful you look...well I can but it won’t have the same effect. You’ll have to describe it for me.” 

“Kuvira!” 

“Sorry.” She mumbles. “But if I don’t make jokes, I’ll probably start crying…”

“Please just cry like everyone else so I can comfort you.” Asami half-jokes. 

The sorrow and fear induced tickles building up in her chest and stomach begin to spill over. With permission so freshly granted, she allows Asami to carefully take her into her arms and lets the tears fall. Asami rubs at what she assumes is one of the few uncharred parts of her back.

“How bad is it?”

Asami strokes her hair. “Not as bad as it could have been. Your right side is burned badly, but Korra got to you pretty quickly so it shouldn’t scar too badly.”

“I guess it’s a good think that I can’t see it, huh?” 

“It isn’t so bad, trust me.”

“Would it bother you if it was?” 

“That depends on what you mean by bothered. It would bother me to see you so hurt. Scars wouldn’t bother me.” She touches the back of her hand to Kuvira’s uninjured cheek. “If anything, they would remind me that you loved me enough to get them in my place.” 

Kuvira tries to smile, but it only reaches the left side of her face. She winces. 

She feels the bed shift as Asami leans in to kiss her right cheek. 

“On the bright side, I have an excuse to take some time off of work and spend time with you.” Asami points out. 

“I think that I can tolerate that. It’ll also be nice to get a break from Su lecturing and scolding me.” She shifts uncomfortably against the bandages restricting much of her body. 

Asami strokes the back of her hand. 

It is comforting to know that, if nothing else, she will have Asami to help her work through this. 

“Now why don’t you lay back down and get some rest. The sooner you do, the sooner you can get back to being a badass.” 

Kuvira musters a smug half smile as she burrows into the pillow. “I’ll try to stay put.” 

“I’ll make sure that you don’t get bored.” She pauses. “And that you don’t try to leave before you’re recovered.”

Kuvira sighs. She wishes that she could see the woman’s soft and reassuring expression. It is going to be a difficult adjustment to make, but for once she will have the support to make it. 


End file.
